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Authors: Rhonda McKnight

BOOK: An Inconvenient Friend
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Chapter 41
Angelina climbed into her bed and turned off the lamp on the bedside table. She lay flat staring at the ceiling above her. She refused to look at Greg's empty side of the bed, because she wasn't going to cry tonight. She wasn't going to let her mess of a marriage ruin the happiness she felt over today's events. She closed her eyes, rolled over on her right side, and pretended his space wasn't behind her.
Today had been a good day. The lawsuit against the DYFS had been settled out of court. The agency had taken the first steps toward severing the rights of Katrice's mother. It would be an easy termination. The woman had already told the caseworker she didn't want the girl. Although Angelina had not attended the settlement meeting today, she could just imagine Katrice's mother walking out of the director's office with her lawyers and her big check. Robin had been dead for months now, and she'd had one visit with Katrice. That alone would help with the termination of parental rights petition.
“Her loss, my gain,” Angelina whispered in the darkness. That wonderful child that God had bought into her life would be hers to love, and she needed that. God knew she needed to love and be loved by someone.
She'd be a better mother than a drug addict could ever be. Too bad she wasn't offering the child a two-parent home. She thought about Greg. Thought about the meeting she'd been sitting in when media was snapping pictures of Katrice's mother. The meeting with a different type of attorney, where she'd uttered words she'd never thought she'd say. “I want a divorce from my husband.”
She pulled the comforter tighter and pressed her head into the pillow beneath her. She refused to let the tears she was fighting come forth. She wasn't going to grieve over her marriage one more night.
“
Angelina, I love you.
Those were the lone words Greg had left as a message on her voice mail this evening. Those words had been moving through her soul for weeks.
The telephone rang, and the digital caller ID showed Greg's cell phone number.
Talk about timing
, she mused. He was thinking about her too. She didn't believe in karma, but she couldn't deny the timing of his call felt like some type of divine connection, so instead of ignoring the phone, she reached for it.
Greg didn't say hello. He didn't start off asking her how she was and follow with a homily about how he missed her. He asked her one question. One that surprised her because it was the question she'd asked herself just today. “If it weren't Samaria, if it hadn't been someone you'd known—could we work past this?” Greg's voice was huskier than normal. She recognized pain in its tenor.
Angelina sat up, looked at his side of the bed. She let her loss envelope her for a few seconds, then she swallowed and spoke. “It was Samaria. I don't know how to think about it another way.”
“Try, Lena,” he whispered. “I'm sorry it was someone you knew. I'm sorry it was someone at all, but please try to move past her.” He paused for a moment before saying the words she knew were coming next. “I love you.”
She shook her head. Gasped for her breath and pushed the END button on the phone.
I love you.
The words reverberated in her mind and in her soul, but Angelina didn't want to receive them. She didn't trust that he meant them. Greg had cheated on her before. What kind of fool would forgive him again? The marriage was over. She closed her heart, closed her spirit, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
Chapter 42
I walked up the center aisle of New Mercies Christian Church with one goal in mind. I was going to give my wretched life to Christ. I didn't know what drove me here. Why I'd chosen this tiny little storefront church with mismatched chairs that was badly in need of new carpet. I got dressed this morning and drove until something in my heart said stop. I also didn't know if I was really converted, or if I were here out of fear and humiliation. Fear that I was going to go to prison. Fear that my mother was going to kill herself with those drugs, or fear that Mekhi would let me down again.
I had to be honest with myself if I were ever going to be honest with God. Angelina said He knew everything anyway. So that meant the Lord already knew my motivation for taking these steps. Based on what I read in the Bible, I didn't know if it even mattered to Him as long as my heart was in it. But I did know one thing for sure, I wanted to change. I didn't know anyplace else to make that happen, but the altar. It had been calling me all night.
Although it was difficult I ignored the stares of the congregates around me. Once again, I was the center of attention in a church, but this time, not because I was dressed sexily. Today was quite the opposite. I wore a two-piece sweater set and modest heels. Last night I cut every piece of weave out of my hair, relaxed it and pulled it back into a simple ponytail. No makeup adorned my face. I was surprised. I actually thought what I saw in the mirror this morning wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't hear the word tramp reverberating in my mind, but that didn't matter now. All that mattered was this moment.
Angelina had told me the story of the Samaritan women who'd had five husbands and was currently involved with a married man. God had forgiven her. I'd done some of my own study last night and found Mary Magdalene. Actually read about her. I'd always heard her named referred to as the tramp in the Bible, but tramp though she may have been, Jesus had loved her too. If He could love these women, He could love me.
“What is your name, sister?” the pastor asked, taking my hand.
Tears streamed down my face. The emotion that was heavy in my soul made it difficult for me to answer. “Samaria,” I replied, feeling proud of who the Samaritan woman had become, of who I could become.
The pastor's lips split into a warm, genuine smile that embraced me. “Samaria, praise God. Welcome to New Mercies. Are you coming under Christian experience or to give your life to Christ?” he whispered for my ears only.
“I've come to give my life to Christ.” I used my free hand to wipe my tears. An usher stepped up and handed me a tissue. I took it and swiped beneath my eyes. The pastor was looking at me. His gaze held sincere concern over the weeping that wouldn't stop. I smiled through my pain and said, “I need salvation.”
He nodded understanding. “You're in the right place.” Then he took my hand and turned me to face the members, who up until now, had been looking at my back. “New Mercies family, I present to you Sister Samaria. She's come to give her life to Christ.”
A raucous roar of applause sounded from the small congregation. I also thought I heard the angels celebrating in heaven.... Celebrating for a sheep that had been lost, but was now found.
Readers Group Guide Questions
1.
Should it matter how a Christian woman dresses? Why or why not?
2.
At the end of Chapter 4, Angelina reflects on how Danielle's death had been God's will. Do you agree with that statement? Why or why not?
3.
Why do you think Samaria preferred married men?
4.
Like most of us, Samaria made lots of choices based on the values that were imparted to her by her mother. There are several places in the book where her mother's opinion heavily influences bad decisions. At the end of the book she blames her mother for her low self-esteem. How much of who we are as adults can we lie at the feet of our parents?
5.
How do you think Angelina's heartbreak over her father's desertion affected her?
6.
At the end of Chapter 15, Samaria declares she's going to bust up Angelina's marriage if it's the last thing she does. Do you believe Samaria busted up Angelina's marriage? Why or why not?
7.
In your opinion, can Angelina and Greg's marriage be saved? Why or why not?
8.
Samaria takes on the burden of supplying her mother with drugs. In Chapter 37, she talks about the people in White Garden respecting her for doing the right thing. Do you agree that trying to save her mother was her responsibility? What were some alternatives to the choices she made?
9.
How could Angelina have better structured Mentor-a-Sister to protect herself from what happened?
10.
How do you feel about the outcome for the characters? What would you have liked to see happen differently?
About the Author
Rhonda McKnight is the owner of Legacy Editing, a freelance editing service for fiction writers and Urban Christian Fiction Today (
www.urban-christianfictiontoday.com
), a popular Internet site that highlights African American Christian fiction. She's the vice president of Faith Based Fiction Writers of Atlanta. When she's not editing projects, teaching workshops about writing, or penning her next novel, she spends time with her family. Originally from a small, coastal town in New Jersey, she's called Atlanta, Georgia home for thirteen years.
An Inconvenient Friend
is her second novel. Readers may contact her at her Web site at
www.rhondamcknight.net
or at
www.3sistersbooks.com
.
Coming Soon
 
In the sequel to
An Inconvenient Friend:
 
Angelina Preston is about to learn a broken heart doesn't have to be a bitter one.
What Kind of Fool
Rhonda McKnight
Chapter 1
“I can't ever trust you again,” Angelina Preston said, sliding divorce papers across the table. “It's over, Greg, just sign them.”
She watched her husband sit back and slump in his chair. “But—” he began.
“Don't say it.” Angelina waved a hand to cut him off. “It won't matter.”
“But I do,” Greg continued, “I love you. I want to work this out.”
Their waitress crept past them. Angelina and Greg's menus were still open, so she continued to the next table. Angelina supposed she'd assumed they still weren't ready to order. Little did she know if any eating was going to happen, Greg would be doing it by himself. She wasn't planning to stay around long enough to dine. She'd just wanted to meet in a public place so she could end the conversation on her terms, and so she wouldn't be weak.
“Angelina, are you listening to me?” Greg asked. The velvety tenor of his voice pulled her from her thoughts. “I feel like this is more about Samaria than it is about me,” he said, pushing the papers back in her direction. “If it hadn't been her—”
“It'd still be over.”
“I don't believe that.”
“Why, because I put up with it before?” Angelina's mind went back to the other affair, an anesthesiologist. She remembered the pain in her heart, the months it took to stop crying, and what it took to rebuild trust. But nothing had compared to way she felt when she'd found out about Samaria. She'd known there'd been another woman, but not her ... friend. She closed her eyes to the pain that was still fresh. She then reopened them and met the sad gaze of her husband; soon to be ex-husband. Angelina cut her eyes away from him before his good-looking-ness melted her resolve.
Greg Preston was the most handsome man she'd ever known in her life, better looking than the actors on television. Skin the color of a cocoa bean and hazel eyes that were so sharp in contrast to his complexion that it gave him an exotic look, almost animalistic; like a wolf dipped in chocolate. His looks were the gift of a Creole mother and a dark-skinned Cuban father.
“Talk to me, Lena,” he pleaded. It was so unlike Greg to beg for anything. He'd been begging for months. “Punish me, but don't do this. Please, can't you try?”
Angelina released a plume of air from her lungs and forced Samaria's face from her mind. “I wanted to work it out before,” she said. “I wanted a baby. I was determined to have one, so I thought if I just put up with you no matter what, I'd eventually get pregnant again. But now, I realize I've been a fool.” She shifted her eyes away from him. “For years, I'd been a fool.”
“So are you saying you haven't loved me for a long time?”
“No. That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying I compromised because I wanted a baby, but now I have Katrice, and there's no need to settle.”
“So you do still love me?”
“Greg,” she said sharply, “what part of ‘that doesn't matter' don't you understand?”
“Lena, it's not like I knew who she was.” He leaned forward, raised his voice a little, and they both looked to the left and right to see if they'd drawn an audience.
True, Greg had not known that Samaria Jacobs, the woman he was sleeping with, was the same woman his wife had befriended and had known as Rae Burns. Greg had not known his mistress was so devious that she'd joined Angelina's church and wormed her way into her life, all with the intention of gleaning enough inside information to wreak havoc on their marriage. But it didn't matter, she'd told herself the first affair was the last affair, and she was standing on that, no matter how much he begged, no matter what her heart said. It was time to use her head.
“But what about my will?” She ignored the voice in her head and slid the papers that had now become a hot potato back across the table.
Greg lowered his head. When he raised his eyes, unshed tears shown in them. “I know—I know I was wrong, but I thought—I thought Christians were supposed to forgive.”
It was she who sat back now. Angelina was shocked he'd pulled the Christian card on her. Steam rose in her belly and annoyance that he'd hit a nerve. She'd wrestled with the same thought all week; the thought or the voice that entered her head when she accepted the papers from her attorney.
“Are you sure you don't want me to just have these served?” Mavis Benchly, one of the top divorce lawyers in Atlanta, had asked as she peered suspiciously over her glasses.
“No,” Angelina had answered. “He's asked to meet with me this week, so I'll just give them to him myself.”
“Don't do it.” There was the Holy Spirit again. Angelina felt an uneasy burst of perspiration, and her breath caught in her throat for a moment. But she shook her head, just as she was doing now. She didn't want to hear what that voice was asking her to do.
“Forgive?” Her hand felt unsteady. She returned the glass to the table. “What makes you think I haven't forgiven you?”
Greg's face clouded over with confusion. He didn't really know anything about the doctrine of forgiveness, and he'd just played himself.
“Then if you forgive me, why this?” He let his eyes fall on the papers for a second, and then returned his heated stare to hers.
“Because forgiveness doesn't always mean things will work out the way you want them to. Forgiving doesn't mean a happy ending.” Angelina raised her glass and took another sip of water. Her stomach felt like it was in knots, and the same bead of perspiration was forming over her lip.
“I can read you. You still love me.”
Angelina hated that those words were true. She hated that she wanted nothing more than to reach for his hand, let him touch her and take her home and make love to her again. She was such a fool for this man. And five months of celibacy wasn't wearing well, not after thirteen years of marriage. She wanted ... she needed. No, be strong. You have to end this. “I want a divorce,” she said, looking him squarely in the eyes, praying her waning confidence didn't allow him to read her.
Greg threw his head back and touched the papers as if her final declaration had made them real. He picked them up for a few seconds and lowered them to the table. He did not meet her gaze when he said, “I need my attorney to look at them.”
“I'm not asking you for anything.”
That statement got his head up. “What does that mean?”
“I just want the house, and I'm probably going to sell it and buy something smaller.”
“That's ridiculous,” Greg replied. “I will not agree to give you nothing.”
“I thought it would be easier that way. Faster and I'm willing to do anything—”
“To get free of me.” He raised his hand and washed his face. “I won't let you walk away without anything. It wouldn't be fair.”
Angelina thought of Katrice, her new daughter or soon to be daughter, once the final hearing regarding the child's mother's parental rights had been held. They'd be severed, and then Angelina would be free to adopt her. Having the extra money in the bank would look good on her adoption application, and she could use all the pluses she could find with the divorce pending. Single parents adopted children all the time, but having a strong financial situation could help the application.
“Can you see Les right away?” she asked, knowing he'd give them to his frat brother, who for many years had been their personal attorney.
Greg put the papers inside the manila envelope Angelina had delivered them in. “In a rush?” He closed the metal clasp and let out a long sigh.
“Not really, but it's a good time to put the house on the market,” she replied. “And well, I know someone who's interested in buying.”
Greg looked down. At what, Angelina had no idea. He seemed to be concentrating hard. His lips were a thin angry line and his eye brows were furrowed, but even through his angry veneer she could see desperation.
“Angelina–”
“Save your breath.” She stood. “I'm not going to change my mind.” She picked up her handbag. “Just have Les send them to my attorney, and please, come get the rest of your things from the house. They're in the garage.” Angelina turned on her heels. She couldn't bring herself to say good-bye, so she didn't. The emotional rollercoaster in her spirit moved her through the restaurant. Once on the street, she did a slow jog to the entrance of the garage and impatiently tapped her foot as she waited for the parking valet. Not wanting to wait even a second for change, she over-tipped him, slid behind the wheel, and gunned the gas. Angelina was running, and she didn't know if it were from her husband, herself, or her God.

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